


Thou Shalt Not

by SilverFountains



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, Everyone Dies... Well Almost, Gore, Horror, I'm Going to Hell, Incest, Jack the Ripper spin off, Murder Mystery, Religious Fanaticism, Serial Killers, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-11 22:29:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3335102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverFountains/pseuds/SilverFountains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>London 1888 is in the grip of serial killer. Soon a deadly game of cat and mouse ensues between detective Bilbo Baggins and the murderer. When the victim profile changes from petty criminals to affluent and influential members of society no-one seems safe and the pressure is on for the young detective to catch this killer.</p><p>(short murder mystery / horror)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thou shalt not steal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [witchesdelite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchesdelite/gifts).



**London Evening News, 1888**

_Body found in alleyway is that of well known petty thief, Nori Brophy, metropolitan police have confirmed._

 

* * *

 

  
It was so easy. So incredibly unbelievably easy. Too easy almost. It was over so soon. He did not scream. By the time my knife cut through that tissue like a loaf of freshly baked bread all he could do was let out this strange sounding stifled moan followed by this bubbling cough as his blood quickly filled his lungs. At what point did he realise he was dying? It happened so quickly it was difficult to tell. That I regret. I regret not seeing the exact moment when he realised that God had sent His executioner to strike him down for his sin.

I would go back. Do it differently. Make it last, make him see. See that realisation in those eyes before they turn to heaven. Maybe even talk. Hear him seek forgiveness. Are the words of a sinner the same as any dying man? Or will they hold more weight? A confession to cleanse the soul before it leaves its wretched vessel.

I need to do better. Make them understand. Make them see their flaw. Make them pay.

I cleaned that dirty thieving digit. Scrubbed it. Cut the nail. Even as I look at it now, the snake incarnate, removed from the bastard's body I can see the evil pulse from it.  I have removed the poison so that he may repent before his Father. We all have to repent for the sins of our bodies.

I can hear them now, laugh and wrestle upstairs. Oh such sweet torture.

 

 


	2. Thou shalt not kill

 

**London Evening News, 1888**

_Second stabbing has shocked local residents. The victim has been named forty-six year old Bifur Kircher who recently walked free from court after a lengthy trial failed to convict him for the murder of his wife due to insufficient evidence._

 

* * *

 

"Just finishing this," Bilbo answers absentmindedly as his colleague puts on his coat and waves his goodbye before leaving the small office. 

He knew that the murder case he had been given was a typical rookie one. Low profile, victims of little importance and little chance of catching the killer in any case. But something really had stirred his interest. 

On the face of it the two stabbings seemed unrelated. The killings had been different, one a clean almost bloodless kill with a stab to the artery in the shoulder, the other a messy bloody cut throat. The first victim seemingly left in tact. The second butchered, his stomach cut open and kidney taken. There seemed to be no signature, no common ground. And if it was the same person the escalation would be chilling indeed! 

He was new, he knew nothing. He was looking for something big when there was nothing. 

And yet.... 

He sighs and opens the autopsy report on the first victim one more time, hoping to spot something that will give him a clue that would help him solve either case. 

 

* * *

 

Better. So much better. 

I took my time this time, looked him up and down good and well as I showed him the knife. And he knew. He knew His executioner had come for him. He could escape the courts of men, but not His law, His judgement. 

It felt good to see him realise that. Is that what his wife had looked like when he killed her? When he had throttled the life from her? Had his wife begged him for mercy as he had begged me? 

How does a man who can carry out such a heinous act and lie so coldly about it in court stand shivering like a beaten dog when faced with death themselves? Coward. For that alone he deserved to die. 

His blood felt so warm. Thick and sticky. I can still smell it now as I opened up his throat. 

What a powerful feeling! To feel that life blood flow over my hands. To feel any strength leave that powerless body. Until there was nothing. Just a shell. Disposable. 

I read somewhere that the kidneys symbolise fear. It seems such an odd organ as it sits there outside of its encasing. I have tried to cleanse it but it seems rotten beyond redemption. Some are beyond saving. 

Enough of such thoughts. 

They were beautiful tonight. I watched them as they kissed so tenderly. Oh how The Devil sends us such sweet temptation. 

Look but don't touch. Never touch. 

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned....


	3. Honour Thy Father and Thy Mother

**London Times - September 1, 1888**

_Yesterday morning the body of nineteen year old Ori Brown was discovered by the Rev. E Peredhel on the steps of St James’s. Unconfirmed reports state that the body was mutilated and that certain body parts may have been taken by the killer._

_This third foulest of crimes in less than three weeks has aroused a great anxiety in the City of Westminster. Although no confirmation has been given that the three incidents are indeed related speculation is now rife as to a possible serial killer. So far the police express little hope but as to getting a clue to the murderer. The matter is being investigated by Detective Inspector McKellen, of Scotland Yard, and Inspector Baggins, J Division. The latter states that he walked carefully over the ground soon after 8 o'clock in the morning, and beyond and the discolourations ordinarily found on pavements there was no sign of stains. Viewing the spot where the body was found, however, it seemed difficult to believe that the man received his death wounds where he was found._

__**  
  
**

* * *

 

They share that same bond, that same love. Blood runs thicker than anything. Beautiful they are, just like their mother was. Oh sister, my beloved. Still the world weeps for our loss. But I look at them … Such love. Such devotion. The product of our love.

They were wrong when they cast us out. If they would read the Old Testament and truly understand it they would know, my beloved, that God blessed our love. For Cain too lay with his sister and Abraham took the daughter of his father to wife and the Lord blessed them with a child.

I have no regrets for what we did. For I loved you then and always as you loved me. As I will love them and they love me. They understand.

_ Exodus 20:12 Honor your father and your mother, that your days may be prolonged in the land which the Lord your God gives you. _

_Matthew 15:4. And anyone who curses their father or mother is to be put to death._

That wretched soul. I quoted it to him, reminded him of his sin. He looked at me and pleaded, begged. And then he pissed himself like a babe. He looked so pathetic. All bravado vanished when faced with His executioner.

The father will surely thank the Lord that He has punished their son for his wicked tongue as it was written.  

I will cleanse this wicked city as is His will.

Flesh. Blood. And they will return to dust. His life in my hand. Oh … To feel the blade cut through that soft pink flesh … So fine. So vulnerable. Life is so precious. So easily taken.

I tasted it this time. Pressed my tongue against that blade warmed by the gushing blood. I could feel the life pulse in there, in each droplet, before it so quickly turned cold. I can taste it now … as I close my eyes …

I beg that I may find relief but as yet He will not allow me. Not until I have fulfilled my duty, completed my task.

 

 

* * *

 

“I don’t get it.”

“Which bit, Baggins? The callousness of this bastard? The way he is toying with us?” Gandalf growls frustratedly at his younger colleague. When he had put Mr Baggins onto this case he had not expected it to become this. Now this savage beast seemed completely out of control and people were beginning to talk, beginning to worry and ask urgent question. And still he had no answers. Not the first clue who or what or why.

“No no,” Bilbo shakes his head vigorously. “With the first two … I thought these were vigilante murders. A thief. An unconvicted murderer. You know, like revenge killings somehow. Someone who thought that the system had failed and took the law into their own hands. I was even thinking it might be someone associated with the courts. Someone who had seen these men pass through the system and be set free … But this … I cannot find anything for Mr Brown. He was a timewaster by all accounts. Did odds jobs here and there. Spent most of his money in the gambling and whorehouses. But no convictions, no criminal record, not even an accusation anywhere.”

“You are trying to find a reason?” Gandalf raises a questioning eyebrow. “The scumbag is a total nutcase, that is your reason!”

Bilbo holds his tongue in front of his superior. For now. Until he has something useful to come back with. But he knows Gandalf is wrong. There is a reason. There has to be. There is a pattern even if they cannot yet see it. “Did you know that the reports forgot to mention that the first victim was missing a finger?” he asks softly.

“So what? He was a thief. Probably got it hacked off when he was caught.”

“No no, it was a fresh wound,” Bilbo quickly states. “He took it. Can’t you see, he is taking trophies. A finger. A kidney. Now this poor soul’s nipples …”

“Like I said, a complete nutcase,” the older man grumbles. “So he takes body parts. Even better, that will reassure the good folk of London. Don’t you dare highlight that to the press!”

“I won’t,” Bilbo answers softly. _They already know anyway._

_ It is here somewhere. The answer is here somewhere, I just know it! Something connects these men. Something makes this killer choose these particular victims, choose these particular trophies. _

 And a very chilling thought hits him. _Whatever it is, I am sure he is not yet done._

 


	4. Thou Shalt Not Take the Name of the Lord Thy God in Vain

**East London Observer - September 8, 1888**

_While the St James’s Church horror in all its sickening and revolting details is still before the minds of the people of Westminster, there has just been acted in the same district another tragedy, which bids fair not only to equal that of St James’s, for the horrible manner in which the victim has met his death, but also for the mystery which seems to surround the manner in which he was murdered._

_The murder, in the early hours of Friday morning last, of the man now known as Mr Balin Stott, has so many points of similarity with the murder of three others in the same neighbourhood that the now police admit their belief that the four crimes are the work of one individual._

 

* * *

 

"He is toying with us! Thinks we are complete fools!" Gandalf rants, slamming his walking stick down onto the floor.

"I don't think he cares about us," Bilbo dares to answer softly. "I don't think we are part of his plan."

"Plan? What plan? His only plan is to kill every man in this city until he's caught and laugh in my face as he does it! He is a sick and twisted sadist. Now you, Mr Baggins had best make sure he starts to care about us. That he knows we are onto him!"

Bilbo sighs as his boss storms out of the office. And how am I supposed to do that?

He had always dreamt of this job. Something about the mind of someone who felt he could justify taking another man's life fascinated him.

Perhaps we are not so different, you and I. We are just on opposite sides of the chess board, each trying to make our next move, trying to anticipate the other's.

The latest murder had been different. The victim did not seem to fit the profile of the previous. A gentleman, a husband and father, with a respectable job. No wondered Mr McKellen was feeling twitchy. Their killer was evolving and at a frighteningly fast pace. Bilbo was convinced by now that there was a script, that each victim held a different meaning. A punishment, but not revenge like he'd first thought. There was a deeper meaning, something symbolic in the trophies that he took.

He shudders as he recalls the words from the forensic pathologist. I believe he cut out his tongue before he stabbed him through the heart. He would have choked on his own blood before your man finished him off. Was this an escalation of his killer's sadism? Or was there another motive?

What do you know, Bilbo think! He taps himself frustratedly on the forehead as he whenever he tried to get his brain to work harder. Whoever the other player in this deadly game was he had so far managed to leave not a single clue. He could be anything, poor or rich, young or old. But he was clever, that much Bilbo knew. Insane yes,  but intelligent nonetheless. These were not spontaneous outbreaks of violence. These were well planned and well executed murders on targeted victims.

Let us see what happens when your king is in check. Will you move your king or will you capture the checking piece?

 

* * *

 

Kili came to me last night, slid under the sheets when he thought I was already asleep. It was so good to feel his warm, tall body pressed close against me again, to feel his sleek hands gently thread themselves through the dark hair on my chest, teasing my nipples before that hand trailed down.

The soft sob that escaped his sweet rosy lips when my body failed to respond cut into my core. I abandoned the feigned sleep and curled him into my arms. "Why do you cry, my boy?" I asked him through kisses on his wet cheeks.

"Do you not love us anymore, father?" he whispered back.

I could have cried but I would show no such weakness. "I love you more than anything, little Kee. Why would you ask such a thing?" But I already knew the answer as he ground himself against my thigh.

"You will not be with us anymore," he sobbed softly. "Do we not please you anymore, father?"

My heart shattered into a million pieces. But I turned to him, brushed the strands of hair from his sweet face and made him look at me.

"You are so precious. You and your brother. But I have an important task to complete, my boy. One that God Himself gave me. And until I have completed that task our Lord will not allow me to be with you."

"Is God angry with you, father?" Kili asked, trembling slightly in my arms. "That he will not let you lie with us?"

I smiled and shook my head. "No lovely Kee. I am very honoured that he has given me this task, for he has chosen me as His judge and His  executioner. But it is very important and I must not be distracted until I fulfill His wish."

My beautiful son nodded in understanding and curled up closer again. "Will it be long? We miss you so, father."

"I miss you too, sweet Kee. But you must take care of your brother and he of you, whilst I complete God's work." I kissed his nose as my hand traced the curve of his body. "Soon. I promise."

I stroked him. Held his trembling cock in my fist until he panted and moaned and cried as he bucked his sweet release into it.

Soon.

I completed the fourth judgement tonight. I know now where I went wrong now. For the evil must be removed before the final punishment is completed. Thus the soul can leave its vessel clean as it returns to heaven.

Do not claim to be His servant when you cannot recall when you last said your prayers, when you cannot recite your commandments. Do not take His name in vain when your knees do not bear the scuff of your servitude. Your false and blasphemous tongue shall be heard no more. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thou Shalt Not Take the Name of the Lord Thy God in Vain is generally referred to as do not curse (For God's Sake, etc.). However, there is another school of thought which explains this commandment as do not say you follow the word of God/Christ but not act like it.


	5. Thou Shalt Not Make Idols and Have No Other Gods Before Me

**East London Observer - September 10, 1888**

_The news of the latest tragedy spread like wild-fire amongst the inhabitants of Portobello Road and the neighbourhood, who, filled with morbid curiosity, surrounded the Tabernacle, the entrance by which the body was taken into the dead-house._

Nooooooooooooooooo! Witless fools!

I can hear the thud of the books as I send them flying across the room, hear the flutter of papers as I fling everything across the room, but none of that makes me feel any better.

How are they so blind?! How will they not learn?! This is not a show! This is redemption! One final chance! _Morbid curiosity?!!!_ They are supposed to tremble in fear! Looking inward at their sin, their wretched lives knowing that Judgement Day is upon them!

As I turn around I find them staring at me, worry painted in the frowns on their sweet faces. I open up my arms to them and smiles as they run into the embrace, clinging on to me as they used to when they were just children. “It is alright,” I sooth. “Do not worry. Go back upstairs and finish your work.” I press a kiss on their hair, one bright as the day the other dark as the night. Just like we were, my love, they are so much like us.

They scatter, knowing not to test me when I am wound up. Good lads. Respectful and obedient.

I turn to the paper again and feel my blood boil up inside me again.

_**The Daily Telegraph - September 10, 1888** _

_If the monster in human form whom we have imagined be captured, it must not be too lightly advanced or admitted that he is insane and irresponsible. There are natures "mad" only in being immeasurably bad - beings who look like men, but are rather demons, vampires, of whom society has the right to be quickly rid, without too much attention to the theories of mental experts. It may be trusted that, if no clue be found to the perpetrator of this latest horror, his own cunning will eventually fail him, and that the villain will, by some garrulity or imprudence betray his guilty knowledge._

I grab the crucifix of my father in my fists as I fall to the ground. I recite the book of Jeremiah -

 _Jeremiah 5:21-22 -_ Hear this now, O foolish people, without understanding, Who have eyes and see not, and who have ears and hear not: Do you not fear Me?’ says the Lord. ‘Will you not tremble at My presence?

How do I make them see Father? For it is not I who is the demon, the villain, but their fellow-men to which to turn.

  _Acts 26:17-18_ \- I now send you, to open their eyes, in order to turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan to God, that they may receive forgiveness of sins and an inheritance among those who are sanctified by faith in Me.

 I will Father. I will carry out thy commandments. Forgive me my weakness that they have not yet seen.

 And worst of all, unimaginable insult!

_From hell_

_Mr Baggins_  
  
I send you half the  
Kidne I took from one women  
prasarved it for you tother pirce  
I fried and ate it was very nise I  
may send you the bloody knif that  
took it out if you only wate a whil  
longer.

_Signed_

__  
Catch me when  
you Can  
  


I take my knife, the tool God had given me for this task, and ram it into that blasphemous paper. Illiterate fiend! Who would seek to claim MY WORK, my HOLY WORK to be a disgusting game?!

I stab and stab, the blade quivering in the wood each time I drive it harder into that spit in my face until but shreds of the paper remain. I notice blood on my hands when I pull away, the blade must have cut me at some point but I did not notice.

  _John 8:43-47_  - Why do you not understand what I say? It is because you cannot bear to hear my word. You are of your father the devil, and your will is to do your father's desires. He was a murderer from the beginning, and has nothing to do with the truth, because there is no truth in him. When he lies, he speaks out of his own character, for he is a liar and the father of lies. But because I tell the truth, you do not believe me. Which one of you convicts me of sin? If I tell the truth, why do you not believe me? Whoever is of God hears the words of God. The reason why you do not hear them is that you are not of God.

* * *

 

 

 “Two!” Gandalf positively bellows in his face and Bilbo actually takes a tentative step back. “How?! How did no-one see ANYTHING?!”

 “They did,” Bilbo says softly. “Well, we have some statements ...”

 He knew as well as his superior that they were as good as useless however. They ranged from a 6 foot 7 youth to a 5 foot 4 elderly man. Ample names had been coined. Arrests had been made. Hour after hour after pain-stacking hour of interrogation. And yet they had come up with nothing of proof.

 And now he had struck again. Not once, but twice in one night.

 “Excuse me,” Bilbo mumbles and jogs to the backdoor where he retches for the third time tonight. Yes this was what he had joined the force for – to catch murderers and protect the general public from such detested crimes. No, he had not been prepared, not even after the previous three for what he had witnessed in the last twenty-four hours.

 Both bodies dumped in or near a churchyard as the previous three had. The first found just after nine o’clock. The pastor himself had alerted them as he had locked up and made his way home, almost tripping over the pour soul, Mr B Nesbitt, an up and coming artist who recently had ruffled some feathers with his painting of _Good and Evil_. The body almost intact, however the cut throat so deep this time as if the killer had wished to sever the man’s head from its body. It was only when they had brought light to the scene that the true horror had become apparent when not those blank staring eyes but empty sockets glared back at him.

 “How did no-one take a picture?!” he can still hear Gandalf rant behind him at the gathered officers.

  _That_ had been their best and truthfully only clue up until now. For on the wall behind the victim it had been written in blood -

  **Ezekiel 2:7**

But some eager servant of the law had been stupid enough to wash the blood away before anyway could capture it. Still, he had seen it. Had noted it down. And Bilbo had looked it up in his own pocket Bible as soon as they had returned here -

_And thou shalt speak my words unto them, whether they will hear, or whether they will forbear; for they are most rebellious._

He was not an expert in the Word of God. Sure, he believed in God, attended church on a Sunday, said his daily prayers before meals and bedtime. But clearly this man – whoever he was – was somehow inspired by it to carry out these crimes. And it made obvious to Bilbo that what he had already expected to be the case was true. This could not be the same man of the author of that despicable letter that had been sent to him. This man was well-read and intelligent. Let the papers make of it what they will for explaining these abhorrent crimes as the work of a low-life lunatic was much easier to sell than the possibility of an intelligent gentleman with perhaps even connections among the higher echelons.

He goes over it all in his head again.

Six victims now. The second one found by his landlord the following morning.

He had never seen anything like it before. At least three officers had stood bend over the gutter by the time he had arrived to the scene. Initially he had been unable to establish exactly what he was looking at. If it had not been for the landlord confirming the victims name as Mr Dori Hadlow it would have taken them a very long time indeed to puzzle him back together enough to reach that conclusion.

Clearly the killer was becoming more confident for the murdered man was found in his own rented room, bathing in his own blood.

The rage of the murderer at likely the letter and other speculations in the paper was clear to see not just in the fact that he had killed twice in night, but the sheer viciousness with which the attack had been carried out. It almost bore no resemblance to the previous clean and almost execution style murders, for here flesh was torn from bone and blood splattered up the walls as it was almost impossible to tell how many times he had been stabbed.

Indeed if it was not for the piece of paper left with the victim he could have thought that this was an unrelated incident.

No-one had seen that letter. No-one but he and Gandalf for the message it sent out would surely send panic through the capital for it sent chills down his own spine.

 

**Exodus 20**

And God spake all these words, saying, I am the Lord thy God

~~Thou shalt have no other gods before me~~

~~Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image~~

~~Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain~~

Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy.

~~Honour thy father and thy mother~~

~~Thou shalt not kill~~

Thou shalt not commit adultery.

~~Thou shalt not steal~~

Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour.

Thou shalt not covet

An altar of earth thou shalt make unto me, and shalt sacrifice thereon thy burnt offerings

 

Ten commandments. Six victims … Dear Lord, he is far from done!

 

 

 

 


	6. Remember That Thou Keep Holy the Sabbath Day

Blood. It has stuck to me like a disease. It fills my dreams. I can smell its foul scent ALL the time! It is driving me insane.

I feel weak. I waver. Can I do this? Four more… And already my hand is shaking. Forgive me for such weakness, Father. I have faith.

 _Isaiah 40:29-31_ \- He gives strength to the weary, And to him who lacks might He increases power. Those who wait for the LORD Will gain new strength; They will mount up with wings like eagles, They will run and not get tired, They will walk and not become weary.

They have worked hard, oh Heavenly Father. They are your faithful servants.

Remember That Thou Keep Holy the Sabbath Day.

+++

“Think, Bilbo, think! What do you know? Look at it again. All the evidence. Six victims and a threat of four more. Do not let him win!” He shuffles the reports around again.

Nori Brophy. He took a finger. Petty Thief. _Thou Shalt not Steal_. Easy. He could have learnt that information anywhere, the guy was arrested and dragged before the magistrates only days before he met his end.  

Bifur Kircher. The case of his collapsed trial for the alleged murder of his wife was headline news of all the papers. A kidney. Some symbol? _Thou shalt not kill_. Obvious too! It hardly narrows down the population.

Ori Brown. A little less obvious. Nipples. _Honour Thy Father and Thy Mother?_ Perhaps. Last job worked as an apprentice for a cobbler. Got sacked two or so weeks before the murder.

“What’s the link to the others? There has to be a link somehow!”

He downs his gone-cold cup of tea and begins to chew some tobacco as he moves to the fourth file on his desk.

Balin Stott. A completely different profile. Older man. Not particularly rich, but certainly better off than the other three. Steady job. Wife and kids. No history of anything untoward.

“Which one?” He looks at the crossed out commandments on the blood stained letter, but cannot match this victim to any of those for sure. “What did he take?” His tongue! Of course! _Thou Shalt Not Take the Name of the Lord Thy God in Vain._ “So …. He had said something, cussed in front of the murderer somewhere somehow?”

“Damn!” he adds a profanity of his own out loud. None of this is helping. None of this is making anything any clearer.

Two more victims. Two more commandments.

Bofur Nesbitt _._ He personally had not heard about that painting, art was not something he was particularly interested in. But one of the officers had remarked that he had heard the victim’s name mention in some recent debate over some controversial painting. A depiction of the battle of good versus evil. _Thou shalt not make idols?_

Not on idol as such. A painting. “Alright, so perhaps our man is applying his principles loosely. He is clearly running out of the obvious ones and has to be creative to get to his ten.” Bilbo snorts. “Great, that just opens up a whole world of possibilities again.”

That just leaves …

Dori Hadlow. _Thou shalt have no other gods before me_.

He had done some research into this one. The last murder. The one where the killer had lost all his previous cool and precision and had just gone berserk.

Mr Hadlow was a philosopher, he had learnt. He studied the Ancient Greek and Egyptians and had recently published a paper about the origin of men in different cultures religions, drawing similarities and differences between those stories. For as he was able to ascertain the man was an atheist who just commented on other religions from a philosophical perspective.”

“He’s clutching at straws. He has started something that he is struggling to finish,” Bilbo murmurs out loud. “So what does this tell me? He is obviously a learned man. He can read and write. A religious fanatic, that is obvious… He knows his way around the city. Knows the churches in Westminster.” He sighs and pushes back his chair. “Right, Bilbo Baggins, well done. You have managed to narrow it down to probably just under a million individuals in the whole of Greater London. Even if you assumed that the guy lived in the City of Westminster itself you are looking at thousands!”

There are two ways of approaching a serial case – so he had learnt in his training. Of course it all been hypothetical. There had not been a case like this in London for … ever? Nonetheless, the truth was you would either try and find the killer or the next victim. Which would he have more success with?

The _only_ common ground between the victims appeared to be that they were male. And that they were seemingly victims of the same madman.

So the killer then … Between facts and obvious assumptions the profile really wasn’t getting him very far.

Speculation then … A clergyman? A scholar? A doctor even, since he obviously knew well enough how to remove the organs he wanted. A spleen, the coroner had said for Mr Hadlow. That wasn’t something your average lunatic would be able to identify among all that gore surely!

He rubs his forehead hard and gets up to pour himself another coffee.

“You’re gonna need that Mr Baggins,” one of his officers walks in looking grim. “We have another one.”

+++

 _John 4:18_ \- There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love. We love because he first loved us.

“Good, my sweet boys.” I smile to them as they recite their prayers, side by side, heads bowed so that their hair frames their faces. I push their chins up slightly, look from brown eyes to blue. “Fili, love your brother now.”

He nods, curls bouncing slightly as he pushes his brother down onto the bed, willing as always.

I seat myself back, watching. I must not yet join them. I can feel the pulse of love throb through my veins but not down there. Not since her death. So be it. For I will know them again when our work is complete.

Fili’s choice was fine. He would have slain the sinner himself but I would not let him. No blood should soil his hands. Such is my task as theirs is to find those who have lost their faith, who have lost their Father’s love.

So perfect, so beautiful. Kili’s face flushed as his brother loves him as only a brother should. No-one else shall ever know them. My children. My beloveds. For a father must love his children as the Lord above loves His. As our father, my beloved, loved us.

I close my eyes and listen to their whispered words. Oh such sweet temptation.

Come here now, my beautiful angels.

 _Matthew 13:49_ \- So it will be at the end of the age; the angels will come forth and take out the wicked from among the righteous.

Sleep now. 


End file.
